The Childhood of Clarice Starling
by rrr8
Summary: Life of Clarice as a kid. Not that much dialogue at first but it gets better later. Also needs a better title. Goes right up 'till when Clarice is asked to see Crawford to get her assignment with Hannibal. She meets Krendler when she's 7.
1. Sno Balls & Oranges

Clarice Starling, 3 years of age, leaned her head against her father's chest. His great heart thumped against his ribs, baboom, baboom, baboom. Its sound was a comfort to her, it washed away her nightmares.

"It's ok baby, it's all ok now" her father whispered in her ear.

Cheap bedsprings squeaked as he shifted to accommodate her small presence.

"You just go to sleep now baby and in the morning we'll see what we can rustle up huh? Maybe we'll have a treat for you and you'll forget all about those bad dreams of yours. You just got to sleep now, go to sleep."

Baboom, baboom, baboom, and his heart beat lulled her to sleep, his kind face peering at her in the dark, as her lashes closed and her breathing fell into the regular rhythms of sleep. Clarice Starling slept well that night, safe within the ring of her father's arms.

Morning and with it the first rays of light which shone over Clarice's face waking her. Her small fist was clenched over her daddy's thumb, his great snores rumbling away into quite then coming back again. Clarice quietly slipped out of bed and padded softly through their house. Its wooden structure creaked in the wind but it was home and Clarice loved it. Through the hallway which had a couple of pictures, but not many. There were her parents, her daddy holding her in his arms. Her daddy helping her onto a horse. There was her father's dusty cowboy hat, and his great overcoat, with so many pockets full of lots of interesting things. This house was uniquely Starling and no other would satisfy Clarice.

She walked silently into the kitchen and sat on the old, ladder back chairs, letting the sun warm her. She looked through the window and her eyes followed a butterfly as it flew around their small vegetable patch and came to rest on a yellow daisy. Yellow like the butter her daddy spread on her toast, them both liking to watch it as it melted.

A soft creak and her father was there, lifting her out of the chair and into his arms, carrying her towards the bench.

"Your mama's sleeping, so try not to make too much noise honey. I'll pop down to the general store and see about that treat that I promised ya. Gonna be chilly today, wrap up warm love." He spread a faded patchwork quilt over her shoulders and placed her on the bench. "I'll get you an orange juice while you wait, I made it when I got home last night. Some man done and shot hisself, but he left all his oranges in the world, so there be no point in wasting 'em."

Clarice, holding a stained and chipped but otherwise clean mug, watched her father put on his great coat and hat and walk out the door. She listened intently as the old engine of their run down pick-up truck roared into life, her father waiting for it to warm up, and then grumbling down the road out of her hearing range. She was till listening when it came back.

Her father came though the door now, carrying a paper bag.

"I got us here some milk and some of that honey you love to eat so much. Honey and milk now ain't that a good combination." he said, hanging up his hat and coat and coming into the kitchen. He sat into a chair, long in it, his shoes sparkling with dew.

"I know, I know I promised ya a treat" he answered to the pleading look on Clarice's face "And a gotcha one to."

So saying he pulled a cellophane packet of Sno Balls out of the paper bag.

"You're not gonna want to eat all those today baby. Tomorrow we're going fishing and these'll taste real nice with fresh caught fish. We'll just have us one each and save one for your mama so's we can have one each tomorrow."

As he placed the package on the small dining table Clarice ran into his arms. "I love you daddy" she murmured through the smothering thickness of his shirt. He smelled like tobacco and strong soap. They opened the Sno Balls and Clarice and her father silently enjoyed them. Then he pulled a knife out of his pocket, the tip broken off square. He got two oranges out of the cupboard and peeled them with the knife, sharing the sections with Clarice as he went. By the time they were finished both had sticky hands and Clarice's face was covered in orange juice. At that moment Clarice's mum walked into the kitchen, took one look at Clarice's face and started laughing.


	2. Games and Murder

Clarice Starling, 7 now, crouched down in the dirt. Peering through the blackberry bushes she could see her father walk around from the side of the house.

"I'm gonna find you!" he said. This only caused Clarice to sink ever deeper into the grass and dirt, thorny leaves brushing her face.

Clarice and her dad were playing their usual bath time game. While Clarice hid in the dirtiest spots she could find, her father would have to try and find her, dirtying himself in the process.

This time though Clarice was sure her father would never find her. At the back of the garden, in a dark corner, a wild tangle of blackberry bushes grew. Through these thorny plants, over a small mud puddle, was a tiny space big enough only for a child to fit into. This is where Clarice now hid.

"I'm gonna find you and when I do you'll take your bath!" he called across the yard. Whether on purpose or not, he tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground. This caused such an immense amount of laughter from the corner of the backyard that Clarice was immediately exposed, and she knew it to. All of a sudden there was dead silence.

"I've got you now" her father said. There was nowhere for Clarice to go. If she came out of her hiding place he would surely get her. Better to stay put and hope that he makes a mistake and goes for the other corner.

But her hopes were dashed when he strode towards her hiding place, his long stride eating up the space between them. He halted at the blackberry bushes and peered through, just able to see her face. "You really found a good place this time" he commented. "Too bad you giggled, I'm sure I wouldn't have found it".

And with that he pounced into the bushes, ripped his shirt on the thorns, tripped and fell into the mud puddle and ended up in a tangle at Clarice's feet.

"Well wasn't that fun?" he smirked. Clarice and her father exploded into laughter, Clarice's father wincing as more bush thorns scratched him. The noise could be heard from the kitchen, and an enquiring head stuck out of the window. "I see you found the little rascal" Clarice's mother called. "Get her in here for a bath. Oh and what's this, you've probably wrecked your shirt in those bushes too"

"No" Clarice's father called "Just a few tears that's all".

The front of his shirt was severely ripped and one arm sleeve was half hanging off. Clarice's mum rolled her eyes and drew her head back through the window. Clarice and her father started laughing again.

In the kitchen now, Clarice's mother cooking dinner. Clarice, scrubbed clean and smelling of strong soap, watched as her mother separated four pieces of bacon from the pile and placed them into the sizzling hot pan, atop the old double ringed kitchen stove.

Upon observing Clarice, you would think she was just any other ordinary country kid, destined to become at best an office secretary. Look closer however and you can see that she is no ordinary country kid. Just in the place she stands you can tell that there's something more.

As the strips of bacon hit the hot fry pan, fat flies and lands on the kitchen floor, slightly burning if it touches your skin, certainly not pleasant. Clarice is not bothered by these hot pieces of flying fat. After careful observation, over a period of two months, Clarice has found the perfect place to stand. An imaginary ring surrounds the floor around the stove, one of Clarice's own making. Over her two months of observation she has watched the flying fat and has determined its range. Occasionally, when drops of fat have flown over her boundary, boosted by cooking forces unknown to her, she has had to expand her bubble. It was worth it though, and now she has a perfect boundary to stand at, safe from the fat but still close enough to benefit from the warmth of the stove.

Her mother takes the bacon off the fry pan and adds them to the plates laid on the table. Funny plates really, the best item in the house. Tiny swallows fly around the rims surrounded by the dark green of a mature conifer.

Now she mushes up the banana, a treat for baby John. Clarice wishes she had a banana. She loved the endless supply of oranges that her father always managed to have for her, but she was starting to get sick of their taste.

Now they are ready to eat. Clarice's mother carries the plates to the table and sets out the knifes and forks. They are only waiting on Clarice's father.

Here he comes now, through the hall, dressed in his marshal's uniform, a dark blue cotton shirt and dark blue trousers, with his gleaming golden badge stuck to the front. He sits down at the table and sighs. He must go to work soon.

The Starling family begins eating. For the first couple of minutes there is silence. Only the scrape of forks can be heard, and the cooing of Clarice's mother as she tries to persuade baby John to eat. After baby John starts eating and everybody's plates are half finished does a more relaxed atmosphere take over the room and talk begins.

"So how is that fish I caught" Clarice's father asked

"Nuh uh. _I_ caught it remember" Clarice put in

"Oh right" said Clarice's father, winking "I forgot"

"Gaga" was the answer from John

"Oh that fish was lovely alright. Though it could have gone nicely with some turnips". That was Clarice's mother, always eager to perfect her cooking abilities. She could make a meal out of leaves and mud, and get people to enjoy it to.

And then the door bell rang.

"I'll get it" said Clarice's father

An uneasy silence pervaded the room. The rest of the family ate in silence as a low murmur of conversation floated into the living room from the hallway.

Clarice's father came back into the room, sighed and looked at the family.

"I've got to go to work early tonight" he stated

"Why I thought they've got someone?" Clarice's mother said

"He's just been shot dead by a drunken biker"

Clarice's mother looked shocked. John was a family friend and sometimes they all went fishing together. Clarice stared into her plate. John's kid, Sam, was her friend.

"Ok well I gotta be going" Clarice's father said.

"Ok George" was the dull reply.


	3. Meet Paul

Clarice was at school, and she loved it. It was a change from the life that she loved but which, for some reason, was incredibly boring. She was in the 3rd grade and at the top of her class.

There had been some talk about the murder of John. Not that anyone really cared, this kind of thing happened sometimes, and his kid was a loser anyway. But Clarice still hung out with him.

She could have been popular if she wanted. The kids were ready to ignore the fact that she lived in a run down old house because she was really quite pretty. But she chose instead to hand around with the children that weren't that well known, nobody really paid them much attention. Like John, except he had wet his pants once and now the kids all disliked him. Kids. So cruel at times.

Clarice was sitting at the rickety wooden bench near the playground, when a parade of kids strode past her and her friends. Clarice had good instincts and she knew that something was up. She followed the crowd to the drinking fountain.

There was a new guy standing at the fountain. He had blocked the drain hole with some leaves and had let the tap run to create a basin full of water. He held a little boy in the water. Every now and then he would pull the boys head up so that he could breathe, not really doing any damage, just giving the kid a dunking.

"What is this guys name" Clarice asked a girl standing next to her, craning on tiptoes to see.

"Oh he's in from Missouri, his fathers on business and put him in school for a week or two. His names Paul, Paul Krendler" she replied

"What did the boy do?" Clarice asked the girl

"I dunno" was the answer

As she watched, the boy was repeatedly dunked. She couldn't stand it, watching this big bully, tormenting someone smaller than him. It brought out a feeling she had never experienced before. Her vision was perfectly clear.

"Hey, you, stop that. Stop it now"

"Or what? Huh, what are you going to do?" he sneered at her

She couldn't answer that. She wouldn't rat on him, that was out of the question. She wasn't that type of person. What could she do? But it seemed her problem was decided for her. Paul had forgotten about the small boy and had wondered off. A teacher was heading their way. Quickly the crowd dispersed.

The teacher found Clarice and the boy. She was talking words of comfort to him. "What happened here" she demanded in a harsh voice.

"Oh nothing, I just found him here soaking wet. I think he just sprayed himself a little too much, that's all". The teacher scowled, but walked away.

"Thank you Clarice" the boy said. "He would have killed me if you told"

Clarice looked very angry at this. After making sure the boy was alright she walked away.

Clarice managed to get through the rest of the day ok. She saw Paul a couple of times to and thought to herself of every disgusting low life creature she could imagine. She put Paul's face on them.

At the end of the day she and Sammy prepared to walk home together. Sammy lived just down the street and he usually got picked on along the way. Not when she was there though.

This time as they rounded the first corner they encountered Paul leaning up against the general store, eating a block of chocolate. This was the first time Clarice had had to look at him properly. He was slightly stocky, and had brown almost black hair and brown eyes. Clarice, for some reason, thought of a hyena.

He looked around at their footsteps and saw Sam and Clarice. "Hey I heard a lot about you" he said to Sam. "I heard about the time you got scared and wet your pants. Didn't you huh? You little wuss. Got any money? I didn't think so you lot are really poor out here. Can't even afford a house probably". He went on and then lolled back on the wall looking smug.

Clarice was white with rage. She could hold it, she was tough. Don't let this prick get to you, what are we doing after school today? she told herself.

Sam looked scared. "Just keep walking" Clarice said.

But Paul wasn't finished yet. "So I heard that you're daddy died. Got shot in the back by a couple of bikers as he tried to run away huh? Well that's what happens to cowards."

Clarice snapped.

"What do you think you're talking about!" she shouted in his face. "You don't know anything. You just sit on you're fat arse all day eating candy and making fun of other people. How would you like it if you're daddy died?" she finally stopped to catch her breath and Paul butted in.

"Listen to you, you typical stupid country girl. You're daddy works as what? A pig shit hauler? Cow intestine puller outer?"

And that was it. No one says anything bad about Clarice's father.

Clarice caught Paul in the jaw with a stunning uppercut. His head snapped back and she punched him in the stomach while he was still in shock. As he leaned forward to wretch, Clarice kicked him where it hurts.

Sam stared at her in shock as her anger fled. Her daddy always told her that violence never solves anything. And here she was using violence for his honour. She was in deep trouble. She picked up her bag and ran home.

Sam took advantage of the situation. His daddy was dead so it didn't really matter. He kicked Paul in the face and walked away.


End file.
